An Unexpected Meeting
by MidnightStrikes
Summary: "Something about the man's voice triggered in the back of Loki's mind, but he couldn't place it." Loki runs into an old "friend" at a bar. Post-Avengers


Disclaimer: I don't own these characters

Author's Note: Could be read as a potential sequel to "The Reunion," but this story can be read as a stand alone.

* * *

He was strolling through a small town in Kentucky, his walk confident yet defiant. The moonlight reflected off his black as midnight hair, especially catching in the slightly gelled curls. It was nearing eleven o' clock as he turned into a stray bar, ebony shoes clicking across the tile. Empty except for a few late goers, the people in the bar glanced shyly away from his cutting demeanor. They wouldn't mess with a man as foreboding as he.

He could be easily recognizable to anyone who had watched the news in the past six months. The attack on New York had made him quite famous- or rather, infamous- to the public. But sources had claimed him taken care of, and the public trusted the news, mainly because they had wanted to.

Of course, he was trapped in Asgard for quite some time. That is, until Thor had needed his help, and now, to his advantage, thought him dead. However, he knew no one would recognize him because none would dare approach him, and they would never believe it him if they did.

Because of this he had decided to wear his trademark scarf with its green design, as well as his dark coat that caused him to melt into the shadows. He looked good, he knew.

After ordering a beer and receiving the hefty mug from the bartender, he began to indulge himself by eavesdropping into the few conversations the bar entertained.

"I know, Jeremy, but can you really believe everything they say on the news? I mean aliens, in New York?"

Loki sighed, turning his attention towards an elderly couple at the far corner of the place.

"I saw the news the other day on Tony Stark responding to a terrorist threat. The Mandarin, was it? It seems like the whole world has decided to pick a fight with us since New York-"

Muttering obscenities under his breath, he fixed his mind on the TV, happy to put the Avengers out of his mind.

"And we're back with Doug, who's discussing 'The Debate on Reconstruction Costs Since the Battle of New York."

Flinching from the third mention of New York, he began to ball his fists from anger. He listened on, however, despite the warning.

"Well, John, I believe it all comes down to the enemy, mischief god, 'Loki,' and the damage he's caused this city. He's the one responsible for this mess, shouldn't he be accountable for the costs?"

His picture began to fill the screen, a clear shot taken in Germany, all the midgardians bowing down before him. His smile was grand, and his helmet shone brightly as if it were meant for a king…

Loki slammed his balled fists down on the bar counter, filled with unspoken rage. All heads turned his way, and an eery silence took hold.

"Can we, can we just change the channel?" he growled, accent clearly audible. The bartender grunted in consent, clicking the remote with a sense of urgency he was sure he had provoked.

The remaining in the bar continued to watch as Loki pressed his elbows to the table and ran his long fingers through his hair. The tension in the room had increased tenfold, and the bystander's conversations went on in whispers.

Realizing he had drawn too much attention to himself, he stayed quiet for excessive amounts of time, speaking only to ask for refills.

Once the prior witnesses had left the bar and some new faces had come in, Loki assured himself it was safe to speak again without receiving too many wary looks. He was just beginning to get comfortable when a man stalked in and sat on the bar stool to his right.

He was intrigued, but mostly annoyed, by this action. Of all the times he had traveled to bars, none had the courage to sit next to him. In fact, the entire bar counter was empty, yet the man had chosen the seat closest to him. Midgardians did not usually surprise him like this. The weakling had courage. He eyed the man with faint curiosity, but the lighting was too dim to give away anything interesting.

About the only thing he did grasp about the man was that he was wearing a suit. A suit, in a bar, in Nowhere, Kentucky. Especially fascinating.

The bartender and the curious suit-wearing man had began to strike up a conversation, and Loki was all too keen to listen in.

"A suit? S'a little fancy to be wearing to a bar, if you ask me," the bartender shrugged nonchalantly.

"My work requires me to be ready any day, any time. Besides, I like to look festive," the man pulled at his clothes fondly.

Something about the man's voice triggered in the back of Loki's mind, but he couldn't place it. Most humans sort of rode together; one seemed no different than any other.

"Work? Like for the government?"

"Not exactly." The man gave no further explanation.

The bartender took notice and dropped the subject. "Well, call me if you need anything." He traveled back into the kitchen and disappeared from sight.

Both men stared at the TV, watching as an overview of the Battle of New York took place. Flashes of chitauri shot through the sky as the Hulk brought them one by one to the ground, roaring.

Seeing this as a potential subject for conversation, Loki complained, "Will they ever stop showing this footage? It's been almost six months."

"Yeah, I got tired of hearing about it not long after," the man agreed. "I'd rather forget it ever happened." He tensed ever so slightly, exuberating obvious distaste for the subject. "But I guess people are still pretty shook up over the whole alien thing."

The nonchalance of the statement caused a red flag to go up in Loki's mind. Weren't all humans afraid of aliens? "And you're not?"

"No- not anymore. There are plenty of other things to worry about in this world."

"Mm…fascinating," Loki mumbled, not realizing he was voicing his thoughts.

"Pardon?"

"That does not happen to be the typical reaction to such a situation," Loki mused.

"Well, I don't happen to be a typical person." The man squinted at Loki, waiting for a response. When none came, he proceeded, "Do I know you?"

Loki quickly hid his face deeper in the shadows, fearing recognition. The man wouldn't stop looking at him for Odin's sake. He really wasn't in the mood to kill; the fellow was starting to grow on him.

"No… I do not believe we've met," responded Loki. It didn't help that his face was plastered on the TV at that very moment, a heated discussion over how he managed to get his hair "perfectly curled."

"Yes, I've heard your voice before," the man finalized. "Maybe we've met in passing. I'm Phil Coulson."

Loki dropped his mug, spilling its contents all over the counter. Coulson? Here? In Kentucky? How fate laughed at him.

"I'll get it," the bartender growled, glaring at Loki while angrily scrubbing down the bar. "You still have to pay for this, you know."

The grunt Loki gave in response conveyed his obvious annoyance with the situation.

"Sorry if I surprised you," Phil said and proceeded to help clean up. "You know me, then?"

Loki ignored his question and sighed, waiting until the bar was wiped clean. "I cannot believe those bastards brought you back to life," he slipped, not realizing how drunk he truly was.

"Excuse me?" Phil's too quick response was filled with confusion and shock, and Loki knew he had hit a soft spot.

The words came tumbling out of him and he couldn't stop. Several mugs of beer had taken its toll on him, and he couldn't control his rising irritation. "I did not pierce you with my spear for nothing," he snapped. "My intention was that you would stay dead, you annoying prat."

"Loki?" Phil's voice held an almost impossible amount of fear partnered with disbelief. "What the hell?"

Several heads turned their way at the mention of the world's first class villain, and the bar became silent for the second time that night.

"I'll take the check now," Loki stood up, not waiting for the bill as he slapped down a wad of cash.

He stalked out of the bar before anyone could say another word.

"I'm sorry everyone, he has some... emotional issues, especially when we discuss New York," Phil sympathized. "Loki's a touchy subject." He nodded with a sense of finality, and rushed out of the bar.

With no one around for miles, the place was practically a ghost town in the dark. The sky was black, and the only light came from the moon and stars.

What Loki didn't expect from tonight was to be tackled from behind by a furious Phil Coulson.

"Mm it's nice to see you again as well," he drawled, shoving Phil forcefully off of him.

"Thor told us you were dead."

"Apparently no one stays dead anymore," Loki remarked, brushing himself off.

Phil ignored the obvious dig and pressed on, "Aren't you afraid I'm going to slip your secret? To tell the world you're not dead?"

"You won't."

"And why wouldn't I?" Phil exclaimed. "Why wouldn't I give you up to them? Tell your brother that you tricked him into thinking you died, just like you did with your father?"

"Thor is _not_ my brother, and Odin _is not my father_."

"Right." Boy, did the man have family issues.

Loki ignored him. "You would not want to be responsible for another war, especially since you did not come out of the first one alive. Lives would be lost. Many, many more than the last time." He paused, taking in his surroundings. "You would break Thor's heart." He smiled, imagining the moment when Thor finally discovered his master lie. Thor always believed he could change, but change wasn't possible; not for a man like him. "You would instill fear throughout this realm. Do you know how it feels to live in constant fear?"

"It would be worth it all to finally rid the world of scum like you." The determination in the man's eyes was unnerving.

Loki sighed, frowning. "I would kill your family."

The typical threat, Phil knew all too well. "I have no family."

His practiced response, recited hundreds of times, sounded strong and truthful to anyone who would've heard. The only indication that the words affected him was a slight flash of fear in his eyes, easily unnoticed by the untrained eye. Unfortunately for him, Loki was more then trained in the act.

A billowing laugh full of hatred and knowledge escaped him. "You think I don't know about your pathetic team? About those scientists? About that human with special gifts? About your...pilot? What was her name? _May? _I know everything about you, Son of Coul.

Phil advanced without hesitation. "I could kill you."

"I'm sure you could." Loki cocked his head, a wide smirk planted on his face. "Because that worked out _so well_ for you last time."

Phil looked away in defeat and weighed his options. Loki was a god, and he- he was a mortal. No. No. He was an Avenger.

"You killed me," his voice shook, but still conveyed a sense of infinite confidence and bravery. "Why not kill me again?" His eyes bored into Loki's, challenging him to do it. This man was no longer afraid of death.

"They would know," he stated simply.

Phil didn't ask for any further explanation. He understood that the Avengers would investigate his death and eventually assume Loki alive. Then they would come after him. Phil was not necessarily an easy man to kill, and there was no one else who wanted him dead. No one else capable to kill him, anyway.

So that's how Phil stood- helpless, motionless, and not uttering a single word- as Loki nodded at him in consent of their unspoken promise, and walked off into the night.

Phil sighed a great sigh, full of sadness and grief, anger engulfing his entire being. This would be one difficult promise to keep.


End file.
